Go Mad
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Something wasn't right. Static was going mad, hurtling objects left and right at whoever approached, thinking them all to be enemies. So it was up to the League and Richie to stop him and set things straight. .:. VR slash. set in the near future.
1. Triggered Illusion

**A/N: Another dream-inspired ficlet. Will be multi-chaptered, although I have no clue as to how many. I have the weirdest dreams, I swear to God. XD**

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**[1]**

"I'm not sure that I understand the situation," Hawk Girl questioned as the League flew down into Dakota. "You're saying that he can't remember anything further than his sophomore year of high school? He thinks that he's still fifteen years old?"

"Apparently, someone was messing with his head. He didn't get bonked real badly or anything; he just went missing and showed up in his old costume, going on a wild rampage. He sees random civilians as Metahumans, and is trying to fight them. He even still thinks that Richie is still Gear," the Flash explained with a frown. "It's crazy. It's like Static's temporarily lost his mind. And maybe he permanently has, if Batman and J'onn can't figure out what the heck happened and how to fix it."

"Was this caused by an enemy's hand?" Green Lantern wanted to know. "Any enemy we know of, that is? Like the Brainiac scenario?"

"No, something else entirely," Batman finally spoke, his voice as low and even as always. "We think it might've been accidentally self-induced."

"You mean he somehow did this to himself?" Hawk Girl puzzled with a cross of her slim arms. "I don't know if I can believe that. Static's a smart man. He would know what he was doing, whatever it was."

"That's why we think it was an accident," Batman clarified stiffly. "And why we're investigating this personally. We going to have J'onn pry into Static's mind as soon as we knock him unconscious. Foley is on his way to assist us as we speak; I called him myself."

Superman shook his head, listening to all of this from outside of the jet with his advanced hearing. He wasn't fond of the idea of having to do this to Static, but he was hurting innocent people, even if he wasn't aware of it. He needed to be stopped, record superhero or not.

When they arrived, Static was out in the open near one of Alva's industrial parks on the outskirts of Dakota. He was flinging steel girders to the left and right of him, his electric powers throwing them as easily as if they were rolls of paper. He was yelling something, screeching it at the top of his lungs, but what he was saying wasn't making much sense. Everything around him was an illusion, figments from his teenagehood brought into feigned reality. Essentially, he was fighting ghosts. A bird in the air became Talon. A shadow on the ground became Ebon. A running Alva employee became Ferret. A pile of tools became Shiv.

Static didn't – _couldn't _– remember that Ebon was dead, drowned in the bottom of the bay with Hotstreak. He couldn't remember that Talon was human again, and currently working as Miss Teresa Miller (last name changed by the MRPP, Metahuman Rehabilitation Protection Program) at a hospital in Chicago. He couldn't remember half of the changed or deceased Metahumans he used to fight. Worst of all, he couldn't remember that Richie had dumped being Gear in order to move to Japan to work on technologies that were saving the world from what humans have been slowly doing to kill it. He also couldn't remember how against this he was, and the big fight he and Richie had gotten in over it.

In short, Virgil couldn't remember a thing from the past six years. And whatever happened in his brain had caused him to go off the deep end.

"Target in sight. Preparing to land," J'onn murmured as he set the jet down on a rooftop closest to the industrial park.

They raced to the scene, but hid behind some of the equipment until Richie arrived. They needed the blond to calm Static before they shot him with a tranquilizer and took him back to the Watchtower for study and medical treatment.

"You better be nearly here, Foley," Batman demanded as he touched a headphone by his ear and spoke into the transmitter on the neck of his cape.

Buzzing filled his head before the young man's voice answered him. "I just landed. I should be over there in half an hour."

"That's not fast enough," Batman growled as a girder flew towards him, and Static cried out, 'who's there?' at the hidden League members, of which he forgot he was a part of. "You need to get here immediately. We can't talk to him; he might see us as enemies. You're the only person he will most likely recognize, even through his delusion. Isn't there a way for you to be here within the next few minutes?"

"If I stop by the gas station and pick up my old jet skates, maybe," Richie replied, an idea forming. Batman could tell by the tone of his voice.

"Do that. We'll see you soon." And he clicked the microphone piece off as he signaled for his companions to look sharp, and be ready.

Static roared something, his eyes ablaze through his white mask as he played search and destroy with people he couldn't recall were his comrades. To him, they looked like more Metahuman villains in costumes.

With another electrical blast, Virgil looked up and froze as a green and white clad figure (that had a surprisingly easy time getting into a costume he hadn't worn since he was seventeen) climbed down from the skies to stand in front of him. He blinked. "Dude, there you are! I could've used your help hours ago! Where were you? There have been freaks running around here like crazy, and I've been getting my ass whooped!"

Little did Virgil realize that the ass whooping came from himself as he caused buildings to crumble and other objects to come flying his way, a few of which from the police department as they attempted to restrict him or drive him far enough out of the city to not harm any more citizens. They got him this far before they had to retreat, forgetting how much metal was around for static to use to his advantage.

"Well, I'm here now, bro. And everything's under control," Gear said gently, as he took a cautious step forward.

"Where's Backpack?" Virgil asked. He couldn't remember that the little creation had been annihilated during the last battle they fought together prior to Richie's quitting of the team and moving to the east. There's been another Backpack since, a small, more crab-like version with higher-level technology, but he was a new edition only created within the past year.

"I, uh, left him behind for updates," Richie fibbed carefully as he closed in a bit more, his peripheral vision taking note on each League member's position. He offered a hand. "It looks like you're done here. We should go home now."

Virgil stared at him incredulously. "You're actin' weird, Gear. You wouldn't normally leave Backpack behind, especially not with all these Bang Babies runnin' around! What's up with you?"

"Nothing, man," Richie said slowly. He made sure to keep his voice a pitch higher than it actually was to make himself seem younger, like the version of himself Virgil would be seeing at this moment. It hurt him, though, to be here like this; he wasn't angry with Virgil; never was. Virgil was angry with him for 'abandoning' him. And he was hurt that Virgil didn't want him to go to Japan to use his mind for the greater good. Richie didn't understand why Virgil wasn't allowing him to be happy, to be of more use, to have something more than the sidekick role. For a while Richie thought it was jealousy, but now he's thinking it could be something else.

Virgil didn't seem to believe him. He got down in a fighting stance, his jacket touching the ground, unlike he had been a moment ago when Virgil was at full height; he was too tall for his old uniform. "No, something's wrong. You're acting strange, like everyone else around here! What's going on, huh? Tell me! Is this another mind control thing? If it is, I swear I won't hesitate to fight you to snap you out of it, Gear!"

"It's not what you think," the blond replied slowly. He glanced quickly at Batman, whom was lingering behind him. He sent a look that was pleading for guidance. He turned back to his old friend. "You hit your head or something, V. You're not acting like yourself. So why don't you –"

"Lies!" Static barked, his temper on the rise with his outer upheaval. He launched a cement churner at the genius. "All lies! You can't be Gear! He wouldn't talk down to me like that! You're another one of _them. _You disguised yourself to trick me, but it's not going to work."

The Justice League showed itself, and it sent Static into an even wilder fit, a scream of frustration emitting from his dark lips as he hurled objects at everyone that came within a twenty-foot radius of him.

The measures were turning into desperate ones. It was worse than when he went a little nuts over his father being taken hostage. Virgil was more furious, more powerful, more screwed-up in the head. He was going to kill someone if he wasn't careful. And it frightened Richie. So, he thought, he might as well resort to drastic means, because desperate times call for them.

"I have a plan!" Richie shouted to the rest of the League, no longer bothering to shroud his voice in a younger-sounding guise. He tore off his helmet. "But it'll only give you a second, so you have to be quick with the tranquilizing dart!"

"No problem," Superman replied from the sky. He nodded to J'onn, whom carried the sedative with him. "Do it."

Swallowing hard, Richie nodded. He zoomed in close to his friend, vaguely thanking no one in particular for the loss of memory the dreadlocked man had. If not for that, he wouldn't be able to do what he was about to do.

Grabbing Static by the shoulders, Gear knocked him to the ground, pinning him. He leaned down, and Static stiffened, but soon threw the blond off. He charged blindly, and as Richie recovered, he shouted, "Wait!"

They collided, one of Virgil's forearms in Richie's hand and their other hands clasped, fingers woven, as Virgil struggled to try and throw or strike the other.

"You're not Richie! You can't be! You look different, and even sound different!" Static hollered in the blond's face. "Just who are you? And what have you done to my best friend?!"

"I let him grow up," Gear said softly. "But I didn't let him let go of his feelings."

"What are you talking about?" the other frowned, his struggles letting up.

Richie leaned forward again. "You're hurt, V. Something messed up your brain, and now you think that you're fifteen again and that we're still friends. But you're twenty-one, and you hate me, and it's all my fault." He released Virgil's arm, and lowered their hands. "We need to help you."

"We? You mean you and all those Bang Babies over there? Fat chance!" he tore his hand away and pointed his finger at the slimmer man. "I know what's going on: you think that you and your little gang can capture me and torture me or strip me of my powers and use them for yourself. I know how villains think! Well, I'm not going to be part of something like that. So fuck off!" He shoved Richie with one of his nova blasts, and the genius went flying. Superman caught him, and Batman and J'onn stepped in as the Flash ran circles around the crazed young adult. Virgil fell to the ground, feeling closed in. "No! No, no, no, no, NO! Stop it! Get away! Where's the real Richie? I want him back! He needs to help me! _Nooo!_"

A pulsing wave of magnetic force shoved the Flash back and made him stick statically to a machine. Batman skidded back on his boots, and Superman jerked upwards and floated for a minute, stunned. Only Richie stood and made a steady beeline for the perplexed superhero.

"There's something I've always wanted to do," he whispered, and Static whipped his head around to stare at the blond, whom was holding his arm and limping slightly. It was now or never, to put his initial plan into action. It'll only give J'onn a minute, maybe less, but it was all Richie had. And as the Martian stepped closer, intangible and immune to Static's powers, the blond came into the empty ring around the African American.

"Do what? What are you going to do?" Static hissed angrily. His fingers sizzled with what would surely be a voltage high enough to stop Richie's heart.

As if it wasn't already beating rapidly enough to burst.

"You'll see," he said, and then he acted. Gear swooped in, gripped the sides of Static's face with his palms over the darker man's hair and ears, and he forced a tense kiss on the unwilling participant's lips.

And Virgil stopped moving entirely. His breath caught and his eyes widened and his lips seemed to turn to stone. And as the electricity on his fingertips died as sudden as a flat line, J'onn comprehended that this was the opportunity Richie meant, and he shot the tranquilizer. And they watched as Virgil's eyes shut and Richie felt as his lips melted, and then Richie caught the mocha college student.

"A bit unorthodox, but effective," J'onn surmised as Richie became silent.

"Dude, I really did _not _need to see that," the Flash complained as he pretended to shield his eyes.

"I thought it was sweet," Hawk Girl joked as she watched Superman step forward and take the heavy, unconscious man into his arms.

"We have to get him back to the Watchtower and figure out what went wrong," Batman stated flatly. "Come with us, Foley."

"I'm going to have to," the blond sighed. "I have a feeling he'll want some answers." He willed a dim smile to his mouth that didn't reach his eyes. "Besides, you guys could always use another brain on this bizarre case."

Nodding and exchanging glances, the League collected in their jet and headed toward the Tower, knowing all too well that things were not going to end peacefully.

**[/end 1]**


	2. Wanted To Forget

**[2]**

It was while he basked in the faux lighting above him on a painfully flat, icy surface that Virgil woke with a start.

He blinked bleary eyes as the sedative drug in his system thinned. Panic and fear rose in his chest, constricting his heart and lungs like a boa. He tensed, and heard his heartbeat slow on the monitors beside him. Where was he? A hospital?

But no, this place didn't smell like a hospital. It lacked the sanitary chemicals and dusty sadness. No, it smelled like work. Watery from sweat, electric from computers, and laced with thoughtful intrigue.

Cautiously, Virgil let his eyes pan the room. It looked familiar. But what didn't look familiar was the lack of white bands around the corners of his sight. Where was his mask?

"He's awake!" called a voice, thick with sleep and relief. From behind him appeared the 'doctor' of the operation, a green man that Virgil could recognize anywhere.

"J'onn?" he rasped. He lifted his head, but it swam so violently that he had to lie back down unless he wanted to have his lunch come back up. "Am I in the Watchtower?"

"Correct. I'm glad to see that some of your memory has returned, and the delusions put to rest," the Martian replied earnestly, albeit tonelessly.

"Delusions?" Virgil frowned tiredly.

The voice that first spoke, the one that sounded like it had just woken up, spoke once more. "Yes, V. Like I tried to tell you before I… Like I tried to tell you earlier," it said, correcting itself. That voice… it was male and lower-sounding than Virgil thought it should be.

"Who said that? And why'd you call me 'V'? Only Richie calls me V," he said, throat still dry. He wanted water. How long had he been asleep?

"I am Richie, stupid," the voice answered as a blond man came around to his side. Virgil held back the urge to flinch away. The blond man was older than Virgil. He looked like he was in college, anywhere between ages nineteen and twenty-one; a good four to six years older than Virgil (or so the African American thought).

"Richie…? But how?" Then, like a slap to the face, stinging pain shot through Virgil's brain and stilled his heart for a lasting moment. "Oh God, did I go into a coma? Was I asleep so long that years have passed and you're older now? Or maybe… maybe I got sent to the future again! What year is it?"

"Virg…" Richie said slowly, carefully, "It's not as simple as that."

"Not as simple? What the hell happened to your head, man? Time travel and comas are no where near simple!" the other burst out, but from the dryness in his throat, he began to cough.

"Easy, V," Richie said in such a soft manner that Virgil obeyed, his face falling lax. He stared up at the young man, and a distant thought, as wispy as a stream of cigarette smoke, came to his mind: _this guy is really handsome._ "We're trying to figure out what happened to you. You were fine a last week, but then, a couple days ago… you went ballistic. We had to knock you out just to run some tests on your brain. You screwed it up real good, bro."

"Is that why I can't remember anything?"

"We think so. You lost a lot of memory… what's the last thing you can think of?" Richie wanted desperately to know.

Virgil couldn't think. He mind was a blank white void of everything recent. He remembered flashes of his childhood, of middle school, of Richie and Frieda and Daisy, of his mother dying and his freshman year of high school, with the Big Bang and becoming Static and getting Richie as his partner, Gear. He remembered… Pops finding out about his secret, and then nothing else. Nothing, that was, except the vague sense of being kissed on the lips with a sort of pressure to smother him and make him swell with warmth from the inside.

"After we rescued Pops, I went to bed. I don't remember much else after that," Virgil murmured. With a string of unexpected energy, he shot up and clung to the front of Richie's shirt, stretching it as he weighed it down. "You have to find out what went wrong, Rich! I don't like how this feels! Please, fix me."

Richie eased his shirt out of his friend's grip. "It's gonna be okay, Virgil. I swear that J'onn, Batman and I will get to the bottom of this. For now, are you hungry? Thirsty? You've been out cold for two days straight."

There was a pause as the bewildered patient lied down and took a weary breath in and out. "Thirsty," he answered. "Just water, though."

"Got it," Richie said, and turned away. Virgil ran a hand through his hair, which tingled as if it remembered foreign hands there, one pair to hold him in place and another to lightly search his scattered brain cells. "Here."

Virgil took the bottle Richie handed him, and weakly shoved his body into sitting position to drink. When he did, a cold sensation swept through him, shaking off the last of his drowsy slump. He slid to sit on the edge of the table he was lying on. Looking down at himself, he understood that what Richie had said must be true, because his own body was as old as Richie's. He didn't feel like it inside, though. He felt small and scared, weak and naïve. But above all of that, there was an anvil perched on his shoulders, clouding his heart with a ball of guilt. "Richie…" he began.

"Hmm? Yeah, Virg?"

"Why do I get the feeling that I've done something very, very wrong?" he asked, his eyes burrowing past Richie's glasses. "Why do I feel like… I made a huge mistake, and now am paying for it?"

"Perhaps because you have," J'onn said from behind them. They almost forgot that he was there, watching. Creepy. He maneuvered around them gracefully, reaching for an intercom. Before he pressed the button to make an announcement, he told the electric hero, "While in your mind, I saw glimpses of an experiment, and eagerness, not shock or fear, when the experiment went wrong. Prior to that, there was only a phrase being thought repeatedly: 'I'm sorry, but I want to forget.'" He then proceeded to page a few of the other members of the League over the intercom with news about Virgil's current state.

A furrow brought the dark-skinned man's brows together. "Sorry? But what for? And what did I want to forget, or for how long? That doesn't make any sense. Besides, I don't know anything about an experiment."

"That's why Batman and Superman are on Earth as we speak, doing a thorough search of your hideout. They are attempting to bring back anything regarding your experiment, such as pieces of it, equipment, notes, and the like. We do not know what it was you were doing or trying to do, but we hope that in finding out, we may be able to reverse it, so that there can be no lasting damage," the telepath elucidated.

"But what damage is there?" Virgil requested the information with a hint of uncertainty in his tone. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

"It would be equivalent to taking a hit of acid," Richie said lowly. "A hit a day for about a week or so."

"…Whoa. Does that mean that parts of my brain are, y'know, dead? For good?"

Richie shook his head. "J'onn and I did some research. Turns out, your electricity powers kept the neurons in your brain active, although dormant. Specifically the ones in the part of the head that control your memory and dreaming abilities. Which means that all the stuff you forgot, and the illusions you saw, mixed with the overloaded emotional part of your brain from before the experiment…"

"…Are what caused me to go mad. I get it, bro. Don't need to say more than that." Virgil finished. A shudder ran through him. "Jeez, what a mess."

"But we can make it better, V," Richie reassured quickly. "So don't freak out about this. We have a bunch of super-geniuses here! It shouldn't be _that _hard to make you better again, right?" But he wasn't sure if he wanted Virgil to remember every last detail. What if he recalled the reason why they weren't speaking to one another? Or that he kissed him in order to deceive him? He hadn't lied when he said it was something he's wanted to do; only he wished that it didn't have to have been something out of deception.

"Right," Virgil agreed, but his heart wasn't in it. "So, uh… any theories?"

"About what? How to fix your head, or why you did it in the first place?"

"Either one, I guess," Virgil shrugged pathetically. His muscles felt like pudding. Chunky pudding, like when you don't cook it properly. They felt like pudding in the way Sharon made it, actually…

"I have an idea about _why_ you did it," Richie mumbled to himself. Luckily, Virgil hadn't heard him. Louder, he said, "Not any theories yet, no. We need more information. But as soon as I have one, I'll tell you."

"Thanks for the head's up," Virgil grunted as he hopped off of the table.

"Where're you goin'?" Richie asked.

"Bathroom; being asleep for two days really makes your bladder full," he joked as he removed the wires on his body that gave away his heartbeat and neurological activity.

"Oh. Of 'course," Richie replied meekly. He watched his friend leave, and then looked to J'onn. "You didn't tell him everything."

"You didn't, either," the green-skinned being replied listlessly. "You left out quite a few essential things."

"I didn't want to be the one to break it to him, okay?"

"You will need to eventually tell Static your thoughts on why he nearly killed himself, and about all of the things his brain is missing. You will also need to tell him you own reasoning for –"

"I know, J'onn," he snapped. "Okay? I know, all too well. I just…"

"Do not wish for an indecent reaction. I understand," J'onn said simply. His eyes fell to the monitor. "It seems that Batman and Superman have returned. Come; I'm sure they have a lot to tell us. Your friend knows his way around here, even if he doesn't fully recall why. He'll find us."

Sighing, Richie followed behind the blue cape of the tall Martian. They wound their way through corridors and down an elevator shaft into the hub of the space station. They found the two superheroes stepping in at the same time, Superman with his usual high shoulders lowered slightly, and Batman with a grim line set tightly on his mouth.

"You aren't going to like what we found," Batman started in. He threw a bag from around his shoulders to J'onn. "Show them."

Opening the case slowly, a stack of printed papers from a computer along with vials full of colorful chemicals came into view. Richie knelt down beside the vials to read their contents, which were clearly labeled in Virgil's handwriting on white slips of paper that were taped on.

"It's almost unfortunate that he was so gifted in the science department, and only seemed to grow mentally as he went off to college," Superman sighed. He knelt beside Richie and held up one of the vials. "We tested this. It's proven to be an agent used in Alzheimer's medicine, except this particular vial of it contains a reverse that would cause someone to lose memory instead of try to sustain it. And when added with this…" He took the vial from Richie's hand and lightly clanked the two vials together, "It would make a concoction that wouldn't kill brain cells, but essentially erase whatever data they held, making them like a newborn baby's; living, but not really _working_."

Richie stared at the two vials in horror. "H… How did he reverse the agent?"

"With this," Batman continued as he shifted through the printed papers to show Richie one of Virgil's typed-up notes. While Richie read, the dark knight took out a teeny corked bottle with a few purple crystals inside. "It's a crystallized recreation of the gas that caused the Big Bang. Virgil obtained it by dissecting a sample he snuck from Alva Industries. He found a way to use the electromagnet portion of his powers to control the crystallized version to make it a mutagen. It's mutating reactions made the Alzheimer's agent reverse it's effects on the human brain."

"So… so he really did want to forget," Richie clarified at length. He felt numb, knowing that Virgil went through this much work and study in order to destroy a piece of his mind. Apparently too much of it, because he ended up forgetting years worth of memories, not just one or two things like he must have intended. "But… what was it that drove him to do this?"

"We're hoping that you know the answer to that," Superman said steadily. His face was sympathetic. "After all, he hasn't been himself since he joined us and watched you walk away."

The blond stiffened. These people were somewhat his friends, although not his comrades like they were Virgil's. Still, they were heroes, and caring, and trying to help. He should tell them what his guess was. But it was something personal.

"I don't know the answer," Richie said finally. He stood up, taking the stack of papers with him. "I'm going to go read through these, see if there's an easy way to reverse the side effects of Virgil's experiment. Please, don't interrupt." And he left, walking right back into the elevator.

He bumped into a warm body as soon as he blindly walked into the small shaft. "There you are, Rich! Why'd you and J'onn ditch me?"

He looked up through crooked glasses to find the man of the hour. "Batman and Superman came back. They… discovered a few things," Richie murmured as the elevator doors closed, and Virgil made no move to stop them. Apparently, the only person he cared to talk to was Richie.

Virgil waited for Richie to continue. When he didn't, Virgil lifted a hand in question. "So… aren't you going to elaborate on that? Y'know, give me the lowdown on what's going on?"

Richie's mouth went dry. He licked his lips, dimly noticing how Virgil's eyes followed the action. "It's hard to explain, V."

Virgil glanced at the papers in Richie's arms. "What're those?"

"Uh… your notes. On that experiment. I was going to read them to see if I could reverse –"

But the electric hero cut him off. His mind was going into overdrive. "Whoa, seriously?! Do the notes say anything about why, or what it did to me, or anything like that? Here, as soon as this elevator stops, we can read over them together, and since I wrote them, then maybe some of my memory will come back and I can –"

It was Richie's turn to cut the other off. "No," he said sternly. He cleared his throat. "I mean… you should go rest, or eat. I got this under control, honest. I'll catch up with you later when I'm done, okay?"

Virgil raised one of his eyebrows. "Rich, I've been resting for two days, and I'm not hungry. You're hiding something from me."

Virgil wasn't stupid. Richie should have known better than to try and keep anything a secret. And yet he's kept the same secret since he's been an eighth grader, about age fourteen. The blond exhaled sharply. "Now's not the time or place to tell you, bro."

"No? Then let's go to my room. That should be a good time and place."

Richie's eyes darted to meet his friend's. "You remember that you have a room here?"

Virgil grinned. "Yeah. I remember being here without being a guest, so I figured that it must mean I'm a member. But that's all. Still, it's cool, isn't it? They weren't lying when they said, '_when_ you join the League'!"

"Yeah, no kidding…" Richie grumbled to himself. He sighed for a second time. "Fine, let's go to your room. But I don't know where it is, so I hope you remember."

"Meh, I'll find it somehow. They say the body remembers better than the mind, so hopefully, my feet will lead me there."

The blond bit the inside of his lip nervously. The body remembers more than the mind, huh? Then he hoped Virgil didn't remember that he kissed him. He was having enough troubles keeping Virgil's memories strayed from their fight and Virgil's possible reasoning behind harming his brain cells; Richie also didn't want the problem rising of Virgil recalling what that kiss could've been for.

**[/end 2]**


	3. Mentally Overloaded

**[3]**

"Man, I didn't know I'd be_ this _smart when I got to college," the electric superhero whistled as he poured over his own notes. "This must've been some experiment! 'Cept, what's with these calculations? It looks like I could've been reduced to a vegetable if I wouldda taken about three pills' worth of what I created."

Richie noticed this as well. He blew air out his mouth. "This looks like some of the stuff I was trying to develop."

"What stuff?" Virgil wondered aloud as he continued to grasp the concept on what, exactly, he did to his own brain. He shuddered, having already realized everything Batman and Superman explained to Richie not an hour ago.

The blond rubbed the back of his neck. "Er, well, you know how in Men In Black they had those flashing gadgets that they used to make people forget about the alien encounters they had?"

"Of 'course. That shit is, like, classic."

"…Well, I was trying to make something like that, only in liquid form to use to inject into enemies. It would be handy for making them forget our identities if we were discovered, or to use medically to help someone with post-traumatic stress or something else of that nature. It could help people forget their fears in order to function better, or to stop criminals from using valuable information against good people," Richie explained in a low murmur. "Only I came across a lot of dead ends, and quickly dropped it. But if you were to have found my notes, and added onto them, it would make sense how you got this far. But V, to test it on yourself? Look what happened!" Not that he could blame the African American. Something happened just before this that might be the reason. And it was something he didn't want to think about.

"Yeah, I'm still trying to figure out why I was being such an idiot while going about this," the other replied dully. He shuffled a few of the papers around before making his eyes leave them in order to look at Richie instead. It was trippy seeing the blond so much older than what he could remember. And yet something deep down told him that he wasn't around to see Richie get to be this old anyhow. And a pain stabbed his heart about why that could be. "Rich?"

"Hmm?" the spectacled young man hummed in questioning as he looked at the final page of notes. There was something scribbled at the bottom in what could only be Batman's handwriting. It said, _'Burnt hole in the wall indicates possible frustration, anger, or grief.' _ Grief? Oh, no. Maybe Richie's hunch was correct after all…

"I'm pretty sure now that the mistake I made had to do with taking too high a dose of this memory-losing crap. But I get the feeling that I made another mistake, too, and that because of it I haven't seen you in a while. Did something happen between us that you're not telling me?" Virgil inquired with all seriousness in his tone. His dark brows were low, waiting in anticipation.

Richie tensed. This was precisely what he had been trying to avoid. He swallowed hard, and then adverted his eyes. He had to tell the truth; it didn't follow his wishes, but Virgil was his best friend. He couldn't lie to him about something this big. "We got into a huge fight a few years back. I got an offer I couldn't refuse, but the offer led me to Japan. You didn't like that, and we made a big fuss before we said some things we shouldn't have before I stormed out. You didn't talk to me since, even after I tried calling you. And then, recently… I left you a message saying that I was coming back for, y'know, a visit. Mostly to see my family. I was scheduled to be on a five o' clock flight back to Dakota. I told you which one, and at the last minute… I didn't go on. Something came up. But no one knew that I wasn't going to get on that plane, and it ended up going down over the ocean. I… I think you thought that I was dead, and then…"

"Then I wanted to experiment on myself to forget it all," he whispered, shocked by the revelation. There was a long pause. "…All of that really happened?"

"The fight, yes," Richie breathed out slowly, "But the second half is merely a guess. You're the only person who knows if it's the truth or not, bro."

Virgil sucked his lip in between his teeth, nibbling lightly. His brain was throbbing, flickering images running through his mind. Watching the news while he worked on what he called 'Project: Mad'. White screen filling with the blue/black picture of ocean and smoke. Some of the vials around him falling to the floor as the news told him which flight it was. A death count of one hundred percent. Knowing that Richie was on that flight, and dead. Hurting like nothing else, regretting even worse. Thinking about how sorry he was that the last things he ever said to Richie were cruel and uncalled for. Thinking how badly Richie must have wanted to be friends again because of the way he spoke on the answering machine. Knowing that he had to forget the fight and Richie's death if he was ever going to live again. All of this and more, in short snippets, racing across Virgil's mind with painful throbs. He wanted it to go away.

"I have a headache," the mocha-skinned man panted as he fell forward. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, turning him over to the fainter side of things. Vague awareness was all he was capable of.

"V!" Richie exclaimed, and caught his shoulders. "V, are you okay? Virgil…?"

But Virgil couldn't reply. His head was drumming with an ache so fierce it was a wonder he was still semi-conscious. It felt worse than the limbo between being asleep and awake while at the dentist's office as they pumped you with laughing gas and drilled away at your teeth.

"I got you, man. I got you. I'll get you to J'onn's lab, alright? And we'll get you some medicine or something. Alright, V? Alright?"

The blond's words were soothing, his voice faintly melodic, and Virgil lapsed further into unconsciousness as he had the fuzzy sense of being lifted and propped up, and then dragged with one arm over a warm shoulder and a warm hand around his waist, the fingers threaded in his belt loops. His head plopped onto Richie's shoulder, and it was all the blond could do not to blush. He needed to focus on getting Virgil to where he needed to go.

Halfway there, he ran into Hawk Girl, who was looking for them. Alarm flickered in her dark eyes. "What's wrong with him?"

"Said he had a headache," Richie grunted as some of Virgil's weight was taken by the winged woman. Between them, they carried the sick twenty-one year old to the laboratory. "I think he remembered a few things, and the over-stimulation to his worn brain cells caused him to collapse."

The woman nodded. "Makes sense." She opened the door to find J'onn waiting for them. "Sounds like Static needs some rest… and a cure."

"I can promise both," J'onn told them as he lifted the weight from their arms. He placed the sleeping African American on the operation slab once again. "The pills he made are easily reversed. It's a matter of dosage and time to ensure the desired results, however. We need to know precisely how much he took in order to counteract it."

"I think he remembered a few things. Can you check his thoughts to find out how much he took?" Richie suggested, a hint of despair ringing in his tone.

"I should be able to," J'onn replied levelly. He stood behind Virgil's dreadlocked mop and placed his hands on either side of the younger's ears, fingers at his temples and other pressure points. He closed his alien eyes. "I'm detecting a great amount of pain and confliction, a majority of it non-physical. It seems… he remembered merely pieces of the past few years, and nearly every piece deals with the last two weeks. Ah, there it is: the moment he took the pills he made. One, two… three pills. Small green ones the size of apple seeds. According to the notes he read over with you, Richard, it appears that the dosage was thirty milligrams apiece, equaling ninety milligrams total."

"Ninety milligrams…? It's a miracle he didn't destroy half his mind," Hawk Girl stated in awe. She paused, thinking. "Will it take ninety of your reverse medication to cure him?"

"Ninety to begin with, but I am thinking it will take much more," the green man answered flatly. He opened his eyes and removed his hands. He then turned to Richie. "He didn't want to lose you, nor make others lose him. He figured it was the only way to live again."

Hawk Girl's eyes panned to the blond, understanding lit within them, even under the shadow of her mask. Richie looked down at his shoes. "I know," he whispered dolefully.

Hawk Girl placed her hand on Richie's shoulder. "He must love you a great deal."

"But he also loves other people, which was why he was _stupid _enough to do this!" Richie barked. He wasn't mad at Virgil, or Hawk Girl, or J'onn. He was angry with himself, and it came out in his voice. "I should never have gone to Japan! None of this would've happened if I had just _stayed._"

Hawk Girl's hand slid to the top of his back, rubbing in teeny, comforting circles. "It's not your fault."

Richie sniffled. "…Then why do I feel like it is?"

--X--

Again he woke to faux lighting and a sore back. His mouth tasted powdery and bitter, and his eyelids felt heavy. Licking his waxy lips and scrunching his eyes, Virgil forced himself to sit up. He nearly toppled backward again if it weren't for a pair of strong hands, calloused from work, which gripped his arms to stabilize him. He groaned and held his head, which felt like it was buzzing with a swarm of bumble bees, big and fuzzy.

"How are you feeling?" a voice asked.

"Like I have a nasty hangover," Virgil croaked.

"Want some water?"

"That might help," he attempted to joke. A cough escaped, and then a cool plastic cup was in his hands. He guzzled the water and rubbed at his eyes.

"What do you remember this time?" the same voice asked, it's tone soft.

Virgil blinked a couple times. He brought his eyes to the owner of that voice, and found Richie beside him. The genius's chest heaved, as if he were crying; but nary had a sound or tear leaked out. "Everything, I think," the dark skinned man said.

And he watched as a little part of Richie broke from the inside, the sole sign of it being revealed in his blue eyes.

**[/end 3]**


	4. Stressed On So Many Levels

**A/N: I still don't know how long this will be, seeing as how I only extended it from the first chapter because my friend threatened me to. But as soon as I figure it out, I'll warn you. I'll be like, "Oh, this is the final chapter" or "The next will be the last" or something else like that. In the meantime, enjoy how this weird story is progressing. :'D**

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**[4]**

"So he took three pills' worth? He should've died," the Flash frowned.

"It's a miracle he didn't," Batman retorted, his arms crossed over his chest. "And a miracle that we gave him a cure in time. At the rate his body was going, the effects were spreading, and he would have gone comatose."

"To go mad, or into a coma? That is the question," the Flash joked, but the lame smile on is lips faded as soon as Superman sent him a narrow-eyed look. He ducked out of the way of the farm boy's gaze. "Um, anyway… you said that he's awake now? Up and about, just like that?"

"The one hundred and eight milligrams I gave him was enough to expel the lasting effects," J'onn informed the rest of the League, whom were all conversing in the main hall of the Watchtower. "Richard is with him at the moment, attempting to sort out if there are any side effects."

"Hey, I got a question," the Flash said with a raise of his hand, as if he were in grade school. He flipped his arms out at the elbows in an open shrug. "What the hell are we going to do with this bizarre-o memory drug? It seems pretty dangerous to me, so I'm thinking that we never share it with the world, and hide it or destroy it."

"I quite agree," J'onn nodded. "It is far too unstable to be tampered with. And it wouldn't do for much help as it would harm. It could be a weapon of sorts, if the wrong people got their hands on it."

"So it's settled, then? We get rid of it completely?" the speedy superhero asked for clarification.

"Already a step ahead of you," Batman muttered. "While we were at their base, Superman and I wiped Virgil's computer clean of the notes after we printed them. The only copies are the ones we have."

"Alright, but then what about _our_ copy?" Hawk Girl brought up with a gesture of her hand. "Do we destroy it as well?"

"I think it may have future uses, so perhaps not," Superman mentioned with a thoughtful stroke of his chin. "We could stow it away with the rest of our research archives, inside of Static's case file."

"I agree," Batman said curtly.

"Aw, but I was hoping that I could run it through the paper shredder or something," the Flash whined in disappointment. He shrugged. "Oh well."

"Speaking of shredding… just what is the status of his brain cells now that he's had two high doses of nearly-lethal medication?" Hawk Girl wanted to know.

A small smile graced J'onn's features. "Don't worry," he said, "Everything is up and running like it was before. His electricity powers saved him the damage that would've been done had he been a different Metahuman, or a regular human being. He'll be fine, in due time. We'll be sending him home later today to recover. It's the emotional damages that are what is truly concerning."

"But he has Richie for that, right?" the Flash grinned. "Friends always help friends."

"Friends," J'onn repeated thoughtfully. "If one could call them that."

Superman put in, "Their fight was bad, sure, but everything's changed now."

"Changed indeed," J'onn added wryly, and the others didn't know what to think of the smile that touched his thin lips this time.

--X--

"Everything, huh?" the blond said with an unmistakable undertone of apprehension. He didn't meet Virgil's eyes. "So you know, now, everything we said to each other, and the misunderstanding of me being dead, and you hallucinating, and me…" he gulped. "Kissing you," he finally said.

Virgil nodded deftly. "Everything," he repeated.

"I see," Richie mumbled as he went to sit down on one of the stools in J'onn's lab. "In that case, I hafta know: what're you thinking at this very moment, Virg?"

"Thinking?" Virgil sputtered, his tone rising as he hopped down from the table and stared at the blond, "I'm_ thinking _that this is really fucked up, that's what I'm thinking! It's fucked up that you left, fucked up that I fought with you about it, fucked up that I still let you leave, fucked up that I didn't talk to you for damn near three years, fucked up that you didn't tell me right away that you cancelled your flight and let me believe that you were dead, fucked up that I tried to essentially kill myself over you, and fucked up that just to make me cease my little rampage, you played me by kissing me! It's all so damn _fucked up, _too, that I still love you despite all of that!"

Head hung and eyes stinging, he almost hadn't heard the last part. Even so, the words filtered through, and he shot up to finally meet Virgil's eyes. "You… do?"

"Yes!" Virgil roared, and he threw a fistful of lightning at one of the innocent pieces of appliances around them. It made a black streak and burned a few things, but it got out his anger rather nicely. "And I hate it, because it's not supposed to work that way; I'm not supposed to flip out just because you choose to actually do something with your life, even if it means leaving me behind. I'm not supposed to depress myself because I'm too stubborn to admit my feelings and call you. None of this was supposed to happen _simply_ because I fell for my best friend, and _especially _because I fell for my best friend!" He sighed, his steam cooling. "I don't like guys, Rich, and ever since you left, I haven't liked girls, either. I haven't liked anyone. I've been bitter every time I wasn't out putting on a façade to save people as Static. I just… I just wanted you back. I _missed_ you."

The pain was so evident on Virgil's face that it reflected onto Richie's, and he felt sick. The blond had no idea that his friend felt that strongly, and yet it caused the final puzzle piece to drop into place, completing the lonely three-year picture with all the correct emotional gaps filled in. He understood, now, exactly what had been going on in his friend's head, and he was glad. Glad, because it meant that what he's been shoving down into the pit of his stomach since he was fourteen was now able to be set free, because it was a feeling that was reciprocated.

"I missed you too, bro," he said slowly, and he placed his hand on Virgil's shoulder. The broader youth shook a little, but he wasn't crying. At least, not outwardly. He wasn't a big girl like some guys. Virgil was tough.

"But you don't love me, do you?" Virgil's voice cut through Richie like a katana through bamboo. "Or else you wouldn't have left for Japan. You would've stayed, for me. Right?"

That stung. It was as raw as the sticky white mucus that flowed from a dandelion when you severed it's yellow head from it's pale green body. "V… It's not what you think," Richie said thickly, his throat tightening with what could be tears or frustration, he wasn't sure. He forced the words out anyway, hands fisting the fabric on Virgil's shoulder. "I was afraid, okay? I was afraid that you would never love me back, and that I'd have to watch you date girl after girl and get married and have children, and I would have to stay close by, as your friend, but always in the background as second and third best, next to your superhero-ing, wife, and kids. I didn't want things to be that way, got it? So when the offer came, I took it, hoping that you'd just smile and accept it and tell me to bring you back a Gundam Wing life-size action figure or something." He shook his head as he released Virgil's shoulder. "Looks like both of our selfish actions got us nowhere, huh?"

"Looks like," Virgil agreed, but his tone wasn't furious any longer. It wasn't happy, but it was reasonably lighter-hearted. He looked Richie in the eye. "So… when you kissed me, and said it was something you've wanted to do for a while, you weren't kidding?"

The blond nodded sheepishly. "Yes, but can we not bring that up right now? I think this emotional roller coaster has gone down enough hills for today."

The dark-skinned young man couldn't help it. With the tension waning, he shattered the remains of it with a laugh. Slinging an arm over Richie's shoulder, he complied. "Let's just go home. With all those hours I've spent on that damn operation table, I could use a day in my own bed. We can freak about our relationship later."

"Totally," Richie sighed, and grabbed hold of the hand that was dangling off of his shoulder. "Let's see who can give us a ride."

"But, uh… where will you go, Rich? Last time I checked, you were on a random plane over here to knock me back to my senses; you weren't exactly prepared to stay anywhere in Dakota," Virgil said with a wriggle of one of his eyebrows.

The good thing about Virgil was that he was always ready to move past something that needed to be done with. Richie frowned at the way he chose to go about this, however. "Don't even try it, V. I'll get a hotel or something. I have plenty of money, thanks to the profit made from my inventions. So don't think for a second you can convince me to stay over at your apartment."

A pout formed, but his eyes were laced with a smile. "Damn; and I was so close, too."

--X--

They made it home with barely an ounce of sunlight left, but Virgil didn't mind. It simply made sleep easier for him. He knew that he'd have to call and somehow explain to both his family (who left messages, asking why he didn't come to their usual Sunday dinner or call them back for a few days) and school (the college left messages, too, claiming he skipped too many classes and might fail them if he doesn't do some extra credit and actually show up) about where he went and what happened, but it was going to have to be a brilliant lie, because at this rate, he was in some deep trouble.

Sighing from exhaustion of the past few days, Virgil fell face first onto his mattress and, curling into a ball of sheets, attempted to sleep.

But he couldn't sleep. Now that his mind was back on track and recalled every last detail, a few things were haunting him. All of which involved the very person he sat next to the entire ride home from the Tower, and recently said goodbye to outside of his apartment door while the other hailed a cab to take him to the Holiday Inn nearby.

"Uhg, Richie," Virgil groaned, not sure if he was groaning because he was still frustrated or if he was embarrassed instead. He hadn't meant to confess in the manner that he did; it all sort of tumbled out in one gush of emotion and words, and he couldn't stop himself. But then again, how _had_ he wanted it to go? In a romantic letter? During an apology over the phone to convince Richie to move back to the U.S.? Over dinner? Before/after sex?

Um, okay. That last one, unfortunately, seemed the most realistic… and yet the most cliché. Sex doesn't bring out love, unlike what most people think; it brings out _lust _and _want _and _need_, and maybe a bit of caring, but not love. If it did, a lot more teenaged couples would be keeping their babies and raising them together, in place of putting the babies up for adoption, or worse, abortion, all the while the guy fled because he was the one who got the girl pregnant.

Stewing over what he could've done left Virgil, however, as he began to drift into dreamland. He wondered idly what he and Richie were going to do; should they agree, 'hey, let's be a couple'? Was it that simple? Could they simply say they want to be together and then make it happen?

Because, on the upside, that would mean Richie finding a way to move back while still sending his inventions to Japan to mass produce, and would mean Richie becoming Gear again and joining the League with Virgil like they were supposed to.

But on the downside, they would have to tell their families that they were together. Which might produce ridicule or disapproval from certain members, and once the word got out, from certain others as well. And that didn't sound very appealing.

Still, the pros outweighed the cons, and that's all it took to persuade Virgil as he succumbed to sleep.

Meanwhile, Richie was pacing inside his hotel room, wondering if a swim in the indoor pool would take his mind off things, or instead force him to think more. Either way, he was stuck with a too-intelligent mind and not much to distract himself with.

The blond settled on channel flipping, because he was too lazy to go down and buy a pair of swim trunks, and too shy to swim in his boxers. So he opted to order a pizza to his room and watch as random television shows and movies flashed across the screen with each press of his remote. He suddenly wished that he could go patrolling, but he was too emotionally drained to dig out the Gear costume he had brought with him and back from the Watchtower.

He sighed, and finally turned off the TV as he ate the last slice of pizza. He got up and took a soda from the mini-fridge in his room. Sipping it, he allowed himself to ponder what might happen between them. He and Virgil, that is. Richie didn't fancy the idea of leaving again, now that there was something that could grow if they properly nurtured it. They could have a lasting romance, which was something Richie has always secretly wanted. He wouldn't have to sit by and watch as Virgil moved on from one girl to another and forgot about him; instead, they'd be partners through and through, back together in the superhero business and as friends, but even better, because they'd be _more than friends._

Unfortunately, that would also mean coming out. Richie's never come out to anyone, not even Virgil, until now. Some people have guessed, he knew, but that was different than the words, _'Richie Foley is gay'_ coming out of his own mouth. Especially not with the words, _'for his friend Virgil Hawkins' _tacked at the end. The truth was the truth, but it scared him to think how some people might react.

Like his father, for one thing. His mother most likely already figured it out, on both accounts, but his father has always been blissfully ignorant, or simply not there to witness the subtle hints. And then there was Virgil's sister, Sharon; now, she could go one of three ways: she could outright disown them, outright embrace them, or take her time getting used to it. Two of those options were fine, but the first sounded dreadful, because the last thing Richie wanted was for him to make Sharon's and Virgil's rocky sibling relationship even worse.

The only comfort he found was the reaction he knew would definitely come from Robert Hawkins: he would still love Virgil and Richie both as sons, as he always has. Of 'course, the 'son' dynamic for Richie would change from 'practically adoptive' to 'basically son-in-law', but details were details. Point was, he knew that they could trust the older black man. It was everyone else that Richie was worried about.

Still, the blond couldn't deny the fact that he was slowly opening up from the inside out at the prospect of being with his best friend. Even while he realized this, a small smile crept onto his lips, and he kissed the cold, aluminum rim of his soda can before taking another long swig.

Yes, so a lot of traumatic things had just happened, but it was nothing he and Virgil couldn't pull through if they did it together. And yes, there was quite a bit more to come, but the same principle applied to those things, too.

**[/end 4]**

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**A/N: After re-reading this whole story and fixing the typos in it, I finally know exactly where I'm going to do with it. So expect chapter five within the next week (Aug. 1st through 8th)!**


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